


Brother of mine

by MadameMeduse



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eskel loves Geralt, First Kiss, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Geralt loves Eskel, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Kaer Morhen's Fanon Hot Springs (The Witcher), Light Angst, M/M, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Sacking of Kaer Morhen (The Witcher), Slow Burn, Soft Eskel (The Witcher), Soft Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Wiedźmin | The Witcher-Typical Bathing, eskel's scars
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-12 18:55:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29639121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadameMeduse/pseuds/MadameMeduse
Summary: Every spring, Geralt and Eskel left Kaer Morhen to travel the Path.Every spring, Geralt felt miserable about itEvery spring, he wondered if Eskel felt the same way he did.Every spring, he told himself that he would never find out.
Relationships: Eskel/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia
Comments: 19
Kudos: 30





	1. A promise

**Author's Note:**

> Some days ago, my lovely Twitter mutuals pointed out they considered Eskel their comfort character and they couldn't stand to read heavy angst when it comes to our beloved mountain man.
> 
> But as most of my stories are pretty dark, I decided to write something else for them - and for me, of course. :)
> 
> There's still a little bit of drama and light angst, as I simply can't produce something that is all fluffy and sweet, but I promise I will keep the tone lighter.
> 
> Wish me luck :) As always, your comments and kudos will be deeply appreciated and kissed on the screen. ^^

“Well, then – goodbye, brother.”

The muttered words hung in the crisp spring air like a dark cloud. Geralt stared at his gloved hands that held the reins of the nervous brown mare a little bit too tight.

“Esk, I thought – we should travel together for a few more days. Just to make sure we – get along.”

The muddy junction they had stopped at made him realized that he still wasn't ready to leave his companion. Their instructors had done their best to prepare them for a world that held only pain and loneliness, but Eskel wasn't just another fighter that had been trained at Kaer Morhen.

Eskel was the closest thing to a family Geralt had. During the years before the Trials, many of the other boys had mistaken them for brothers and after a while, Geralt had stopped correcting them, because – in his heart, it was the truth. Even after Geralt's tanned skin and dark hair had nearly lost all of their pigments, branding him as a rare specimen even among mutants, nothing had changed between them.

Geralt dared to look at the other rider and was relieved to see that Eskel's handsome face lit in a warm smile. He was glad he had finally made the proposal he had been thinking about since they had left the old fortress in the Blue Mountains two days ago.

“Might be a good idea.” It always amazed Geralt how much his brother's voice had changed during the years. He remembered him as a silent boy who had been too small for his age. Eskel's skin had always been slightly darker than the other boys', as he descended from the Mountain Folk. It had led to bullying. Kids were cruel when it came to differences and young Witchers were taught to never show mercy.

Geralt had found Eskel in the stables one day, sobbing into little hands that covered his bloodied face. Geralt didn't remember much of what had happened after this encounter, but he still recalled the satisfying crack of a breaking nose and the whipping he had gladly accepted for attacking another boy.

Nobody had dared to harass Eskel ever again after that day and soon, they had become inseparable. Geralt still chuckled every time he thought of Vesemir's surprised face after the old sword fighting instructor had caught them with the jug and the tied forest bumblebee. And there had been so many more shared moments that had transformed their miserable lives into something almost bearable.

Now, as they had nearly reached full adulthood, Geralt still felt amazed by how broad Eskel's shoulders looked in the padded gambeson jacket he preferred to wear. Both of them had been more uncontrolled legs and awkwardly thin arms than torso during the years before the trials.

Geralt still remembered how it had felt to be weak and vulnerable. Things were different now. These days, he found himself trapped in a body that wasn't his and whose functions he still didn't comprehend completely. He wondered if Eskel felt the same way, but he would never ask. 

They set camp a while before dusk next to a rather muddy pond. The horses, Geralt's brown and Eskel's black mare, grazed happily at the lakeside and while Geralt caught some fishes, his brother collected dry wood and built a campfire. The nights were still cold and humid and even though Witcher's didn't feel the cold like humans, they knew how to enjoy the few blessings life held for them.

“Well, I won't miss the dormitories”, Geralt said over the shared meal of fried fish and stale bread. Eskel nodded approvingly. His mouth curled up into a thoughtful smirk.

“I prefer to see the sky. Still remember how I sneaked out of my family's tent to count the stars when I was a boy.”

“You do? You never told me you remembered anything.” 

Eskel shrugged and scratched his dark stubble. His eyes locked on the crackling flames of the fire.

“Just that. The stars. A warm embrace. And a lullaby in my mother's tongue.”

Geralt huffed a laugh, but it came out more bitter than he had expected.

“Well, sounds better than my own memories. At least your mother didn't dump you on a road without saying goodbye.”

Eskel was silent for a while. He took the last bite of his fish and threw the bones into the dark red embers before he rose and spread out his bedroll next to the campfire. Dusk approached and the sounds of the woodland animals dimmed to their soothing night-time hum.

“She still abandoned me”, Eskel murmured and laid down on his blankets, strong arms folded behind his head. “Wonder if I was a child surprise or if there were too many hungry mouths to feed at home.”

Geralt flopped onto his own bedroll and groaned.

“Sorry, Esk. That was – insensitive.”

“Read that word in a book? You're really a smart ass.”

“You're the ass, Esk", Geralt said and rolled his eyes.

Eskel just chuckled warmly and they fell into a comfortable silence. The sky turned purple and finally, black. Stars shimmered on the blanket of night.

“Thousands of lights up there", Geralt mused and stifled a yawn. They hadn't slept the night before, eager to leave the vicinity of Kaer Morhen for the first time in their lives. "Do you remember all of their names from the lessons?”

“Of course.” The dark-haired Witcher's voice sounded soft and sleepy. “Names give meaning to everything out there. Men, animals, plants. As long as somebody remembers them, they will be immortal.”

“Hmm. Sounds nice.” Geralt rubbed his eyes and rose his head as one of the horses snorted lightly. “Maybe I should name my mare. Then she'll be immortal, too.”

“She's a good horse. She deserves a proper name”, Eskel agreed solemnly, but there was a little vibration in his throat that gave away his amusement. “Something strong and mighty. Roach, maybe?”

“Roach is fine.”

“Geralt, that was a joke.” Now it was Eskel's time to groan in desperation.

“I don't care. She's Roach, now. Forever.”

The fire died and Geralt slid between the itchy layers of his woolen bedroll. He could still see enough to notice Eskel's intense amber gaze that lingered on him. It didn't feel strange to be observed. It just tickled somewhere in the back of his mind, where his sense of intimacy waited to unfold.

“Don't die out there.” The words were barely audible, but Geralt knew that Eskel wanted them to be heard. “Come back next winter.”

Geralt knew he shouldn't make any promises. A Witcher's life was full of risks and Vesemir had never become tired of emphasizing that a Witcher would probably die on the Path. Bleed to death in the middle of nowhere. Bruised. Battered. Forgotten. 

“I will, brother. I will.”


	2. Worlds apart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for your kudos and comments, I am so happy you liked my little story! :)
> 
> I wonder how long this fic will become because I have no idea how much softness I can write before I feel the need to add some soft smut :)

Geralt bolted into the library with fierce energy. The door crashed against the wooden panels that decorated the large room and normally provided a calm and distinguished atmosphere.

“You're back!”, he yelled and was met was a deeply amused glance. Eskel was sitting on a desk covered with dusty volumes. The air in the large candle-lit room was warm and dry, defying the winter's full force that had crashed down on Kaer Morhen valley two days ago.

“Actually, I've been back for a week, but you were up at the garrison and ordered children around.”

Geralt made a face and strode through the library with wide paces. Seconds later, he pulled Eskel up and hugged him fiercely. Bathed gladly in Eskel's familiar scent of pinewood and amber. A feeling of secureness and piece immediately rushed through Geralt's veins and he sighed in relief.

“It was Vesemir's idea”, he explained with a fake grouse. “He thought I would learn patience.” Geralt held his brother at arm's distance and observed him closely. Eskel's sleeves had been rolled up and revealed a red and prominent scar on his forearm. His dark hair was long enough to be pulled back into a careless bun on the back of his head and he was obviously trying to grow a beard. “You look like a fuzzy bear”, Geralt stated and Eskel kicked his shin with brotherly negligence.

“Neither polite nor patient. Why is this no surprise?”

“Because nobody knows me better than you do, Esk.”

Eskel just hummed and sat down on the desk again. He blew over the spine of a crumbling volume and opened it carefully. Instead of giving an answer, he beckoned Geralt over.

“Look at this. It's an old elven chronic, giving information about the first monsters that arrived at the Continent after the Conjunction of the Spheres.”

Geralt rested his forearms on Eskel's broad shoulders. He could feel the warmth that radiated through their tunics' fabric.

“And why are we talking about this instead of floating in the hot springs right now?” He tried to sound bored, but he wasn't. His brother soaked up knowledge like a sponge and when Eskel got excited about something, it really had to be a thing. Geralt didn't like books, but he liked looking at Eskel beaming over some long-forgotten inscriptions. “Come on, White Gull, dried mushrooms and some filthy novels from Novigrad.”

Eskel tilted his head and gave him a cheeky look.

“If I need to choose between a book and a tub of floating Witcher sausages, it will always be the book.”

“Nothing wrong with my sausage”, Geralt grumbled and noticed that Eskel's shoulder tensed for a second. Then the dark head bowed down over the volume again and Geralt couldn't do anything but bend over as well if he didn't want to lose the body contact. “Oh, it's really beautiful”, he admitted reluctantly and observed how Eskel's finger glided over the vellum, traced the delicate paintings and the elven script. “What does it say?”

“It's about Oszluzgs or Slyzards. They are extremely rare, so they're often confused with Wyverns, but Slyzards will bake you to a crisp before you notice you've made a mistake. Their tails contain a strong venom. A scratch can paralyze a Witcher for days.”

“How do you know?”, Geralt asked and Eskel raised his scarred arm instead of an explanation, deep into reading again. Geralt winced with sincere sympathy. “Ouch.”

“Managed to slip into a crevice before I passed out. Got its the tail with the poison gland a while later. It may be useful, so I brought it to the lab. But there isn't much in Brother Adalbert's bestiary about them, so I want to collect more information.”

“Glad you aren't toast”, Geralt said and drew back his arms reluctantly. The thought of Eskel being stuck in the mountains, injured and unconscious, made him uneasy. Luckily, his brother was so absorbed with the elvish writing that he didn't notice. “Studies can wait. Life can't.”

He tugged gently at Eskel's sleeve, but Eskel's hand brushed his fingers away gently.

“Geralt, I am sorry, but -.” The dark-haired Witcher frowned and still didn't look up. “I just can't.”

There was a strange nuance in Eskel's baritone that told Geralt he was missing something. Witchers couldn't blush because it would have been a disadvantage in negotiations with humans. But Geralt knew his brother like he knew himself and Eskel's facial expression gave him away. He felt embarrassed. Right now.

“Where's the problem?” Geralt was frozen to the bone because it had been hard to get from the garrison to the keep in a blizzard that hadn't subsided for two days. But there were more important things than warming up. He grabbed a chair and sat down on the other side of the desk. “You can tell me. Can't be about the springs.”

Eskel sighed and his strong, scarred hands folded over the book. When he finally met Geralt's glance, his lips quirked into a timid smile.

“I just don't want to embarrass myself”, he mumbled and shrugged. It sure was meant to be a nonchalant gesture, but Eskel's movements were stiff and awkward.

“Why would you -.” Geralt's mind raced and he needed a moment to realize which part of his proposal could have made his brother uncomfortable. The alcohol? No, because he knew Eskel could drink like a fish. “The novels? I don't get it, Esk. It's just men talk.” He hesitated when he witnessed how the frown on his brother's forehead deepened and then, finally, the Oren dropped. “You don't like men talk?”

“Not much to contribute”, Eskel admitted and scratched his bearded chin. Geralt blinked. He couldn't believe what he heard. How was this even possible? His brother was tall, buff, and very handsome. As his hair still had its original color and his eyes a more amber tone than Geralt's, people could easily mistake Eskel for a human man. How could he not have found a willing woman?

“What? You haven't-?”

“If you yell any louder, the whole of Kaer Morhen will know. And then I will tell everyone about -.”

It could have been a serious threat because Geralt didn't want anyone to find out he still owned the little stuffed bear one of the laboratory mages had given him after a painful training accident when he was a kid. But he knew that Eskel would never give him away and he felt how a grin spread over his face.

“Sorry, Esk. I wasn't thinking”, he knew he looked adequately contrite, but then he blurted out: “Really?”

His brother folded his arms over his chest and rose his dark eyebrows in dismay, but his glance was nothing but lenient. Geralt knew this specific glance very well and he shrunk an inch under its intensity. Eskel had always been the reasonable, the mature one, while Geralt had repeatedly struggled with his emotions and identity. Sometimes, he told himself, he envied his brother for his calmness.

“Yes, really. No big deal. I will probably survive.”

“Yeah.” Geralt scratched his neck and now it was his time to look down on the tabletop and the elven book. “I mean, I went to a brothel once and -.”

 _It was bad. She hated me, but she took my money anyway,_ he wanted to say. But it was a confession he suddenly wasn't able to make. He didn't even know why.

“I am sorry”, Eskel said. Geralt pursed his lips. So much for not making a confession. He sometimes wondered if his brother was a mind reader or if he just was the most transparent man on the Continent.

“Well, I suppose there are things you just have to get over with, and then it gets better.” 

“That's what the mages told us about the Trials, too. And these were lies”, Eskel reminded him softly.

“You're a sad poet, brother.”

“Just a simple Witcher. - Now, off you go. Enjoy your evening.”

“You, too.”

Geralt left, but he looked over his shoulder one last time before he closed the door. He wondered what had suddenly made him feel that they were worlds apart.


	3. So close

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your lovely comments, I adore every single one of them :) This chapter contains a bit of angst and sadness, but I hope it's not too much for you lovely readers and that you will continue to read!

Geralt became quieter over the course of the years. What had begun with a girl vomiting and passing out at his sight made it impossible not to change. The instructors at Kaer Morhen had tried to prepare the young Witchers for the path, but the reality was much crueler than Geralt had imagined as a young boy.

Weeping himself into sleep almost every night during the years before the Trials, he had dreamt of bravery and heroics. Of some greater purpose that would justify all the horrible things that had been done to him, Eskel, and the other children. Children that were long dead and forgotten.

Physical pain was something he had gotten used to quite quickly and when Geralt had met the first real monsters, their claws and teeth held no threat for him. He knew that nothing would ever feel as humiliating and painful as the Trials.

At first, he had hated his new body and had often wondered what he would have looked like as a normal man. A human who could have a wife, children of his own – just a normal existence. But the Path had cured him of these fantasies. It was a Witcher's duty to put them aside and accepted what he had become. A threat. The necessary evil humans only accepted when they were in need.

As year after year on the Path went by, Geralt forgot to treat his wounds properly, because nobody cared if there was a new scar or not. In fact, they only added to his reputation. The women he met during his travels were either terrified by his appearance or attracted because they wanted something exotic on their lover's list. Sometimes, he gave into his yearning. Most of the time, he did not, because he had learned that kindness was a rare treat among humans and that treason and viciousness wanted under nearly every facade, no matter how pretty they were.

The only pure thing that he knew were the winters at Kaer Morhen. All the men there had made and survived the same experiences. They knew how to deal with a pain nobody of them wanted to openly talk about, but that lingered in every corner of the big, lonely fortress.

They drank and sang, fought each other, laughed and yelled, and sometimes, in the most lonely hour of the night, there would be a Witcher who opened up a bit and nobody dared to laugh at the stories he was telling.

It was the community that kept the Witchers of Kaer Morhen alive. But no community was meant to last forever.

Geralt's final contract for the year went well until the point where the villagers decided to send some arrows as payment for freeing them from a Leshen. He was able to get out alive out of sheer luck, but there still was a metal tip in the muscle below his shoulder blade when he realized he could either search for a healer in the loneliness of Kaedwen or make it to Kaer Morhen on time before the first storm hit and made the 'Killer' impassable. He decided on the latter.

It was a mistake. The storm hit him halfway up the mountain and left him with no choice but to dismount and lead Roach over the treacherous path. There was a cavern that could have provided shelter under normal circumstances, but the Witcher renounced the chance to rest. If he slowed down, they wouldn't make it up to the fortress alive.

Geralt ignored the pain in his shoulder and his exhaustion. Soon, he couldn't feel his arms and legs anymore, but the monster mutagens they had forced into his body years ago worked as they should. His instincts told him to go home, to press for the warmth of the refuge that was waiting for him if he just held on a little longer.

The storm got worse and he pressed closer to the trembling mare. Roach showed extraordinary trust in his decisions, but at some point, she started shying sideways and he had to put her under Axii. Finally, he could spot the familiar outlines of Kaer Morhen, but as soon as his eyes confirmed that he hadn't started hallucinating, his other senses told him something wasn't right.

The overwhelming scent of soot and old death meandered through the piercing wind and the snow. He forced his body forward, mobilized all his remaining strength to really comprehend what his mind was just beginning the realize. He made it to the path that led to the gatehouse, the once-proud entrance to the Kaer Morhen fortress. Now, it laid in ruins.

Geralt's limbs no longer obeyed his will. He heard Roach's panicked neigh as he stumbled into a snowbank. Cold crept into his body and then, there was only a dark, velvety nothing.

Unexpected warmth enveloped him when he woke up. His Witcher mind, made to shift from unconsciousness to full alertness within seconds, wanted to understand what had saved him from dying of exposure and if there was still a threat he had to face. But the familiar scents and noises that surrounded him told him everything he needed to know.

He was safe, at Kaer Morhen. A fire crackled nearby and he had been covered by soft furs and woolen blankets. Somewhere in the distance, horses were neighing and men talking lowly. There was a solid, but soft body pressed to his naked chest and the sensation startled him more than the searing pain that emanated from his self-bandaged shoulder. This wasn't bad. Just - strange.

Geralt sometimes thought that the deep bond between Eskel and him had been the main reason why both of them had survived the Trials. He vividly remembered how it had felt to share a bed with his brother. Many years ago, they had curled up on the same cot at night, two thin, shivering children under a shared blanket. After the other boys in the dorm had fallen asleep, they had shared the fear and the pain none of them had been allowed to show during the day.

But now, they were adult men and everything had changed. Their lives. Their bodies. Although Geralt knew his brother had done the only right thing when it came to hypothermia – undress them to their braies and share body heat -, an odd sensation welled up his throat.

“Can you open your eyes?” Geralt heard and felt Eskel's low voice at the same time and the unknown feeling intensified. It wasn't shame, but something very close to this emotion, tinged with the anticipation of _something_ he couldn't grasp. With a groan, he cracked his eyes open and met his brother's worried eyes, only a few inches away. “How are you feeling?”

“-at happend?”, Geralt rasped and tried to move, but his limbs still felt cramped and frozen. At least his body core was warm, thanks to Eskel.

“Lambert found you at the gates. Pure luck, because we barricaded in here for the nights. Can you move your fingers and toes?”

Thousand of questions flooded Geralt's mind, but the only thing his tongue could produce was an affirmative noise after finding out he would stay in possession of all his fingers and toes. When his eyelids dropped again when sleep took him, the last thing he heard was Eskel's relieved sigh.

The next time Geralt woke it was his brother who had dozed off, laying on his side, one arm under his head. Tousled strands of long dark hair framed Eskel's bearded face. He looked peaceful, but the deep lines and dark circles under his eyes told another story.

Geralt wanted to sit up and look around the banquet hall, but he knew any movement would trouble his brother's sleep and so he just stayed where he was. Silent steps approached and as Geralt looked up, you saw a youthful face staring down at him. It was Lambert, the Witcher who had found him. He didn't know many details about the kid, only that it had been Lambert's first year on the Path and that his temperament matched his fiery redhead.

“Thank you”, Geralt's lips formed the words more than saying them aloud. The corner of Lambert's mouth twitched into a sarcastic smile, but he nodded brusquely before he left. It maybe wasn't the beginning of a close friendship, but Geralt felt a sudden connection. He knew he could trust his instincts.

Eskel's breath hitched. Geralt turned his head again to witness how his brother blinked and focused his amber eyes on him. Suddenly, reality crashed into Geralt's perception as he understood and _knew >/em>. Too few voices in the hall. They sounded desperate. The horses were inside the keep and not in the stables where they belonged. No smell of food and beer, just unwashed bodies and animals._

_“Everyone is dead”, he said and found the answer he needed in Eskel's gaze. Geralt's throat tightened again. It was a shock to see how his strong, serene brother's face contorted into a grimace of unconcealed pain. Eskel had always been the one who had been able to control his feelings, but Geralt had always assumed there were depths behind the calm facade that nobody had ever witnessed. “But we are still here”, Geralt whispered. His fingers groped for Eskel's arm under the furs and when he found his brother's hand, he took it with a gentleness he hadn't thought himself capable of._

_“Yes”, Eskel murmured and bit his underlip, trying to regain his composure again. It pained Geralt to see how his brother suffered. Despite all of his childhood struggles, Eskel had always considered Kaer Morhen his true home. Maybe because he didn't remember more from his childhood than three tiny details._

_Geralt's held several memories, most of them about his beloved mother. He still recalled the smell of her red hair, the sunlight that had filtered into their small hut on bright summer days. There was so much he had been missing every day of his life, it had been only natural to develop a grudge against everything Kaer Morhen stood for. But although Geralt had always despised the existence as a Witcher, he had never hated the other men who had shared his fate._

_“What's with your shoulder?”, Eskel asked calmly. “We didn't dare to treat the wound until you woke.”_

_Geralt gladly seized the opportunity to distract his brother from his grief, because a part of him desperately wanted to see Eskel smile again._

_“Shot me instead of paying me. The tip is still in. Nothing serious. Ignored it to come here and see -.”_

__you_ _


	4. Incertainties

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your lovely comments and kudos so far. I promise Geralt will only be half an idiot in this chapter. Plus: hot springs :) Enjoy!

Twelve men were left. Twelve men that now represented the School of the Wolf. All of them had survived because they had been on the Path when a group of religious fanatics had attacked the fortress and destroyed nearly everything.

But not all was lost. Or so Vesemir said, the fencing instructor who now found himself in the position of the Eldest. He quickly decided he wouldn’t pick up the title of the Grandmaster because he was a humble man and more comfortable with a sword in his hand than with titles.

Nevertheless, Vesemir was convinced that they had to move on from the catastrophe and rebuild the school again. So the repairs started as soon as they had made sure that they had enough provisions to survive the bitter winter in the Kaedweni mountains. Luckily, all of the twelve had brought food and even some alive animals up the ‘Killer’. In addition to the stocks that hadn’t been destroyed by the intruders, the supplies offered a good chance the men would live to see another spring.

Geralt’s shoulder healed quickly after Eskel had cut out the arrow tip and soon, he was able to participate in the construction works inside and outside of the keep. The Witchers slept in the banquet hall for a week, but soon, they decided to share the smaller rooms on the first floor to save firewood. The large fire pit between the hall and kitchen was only lit for the preparation of the simple meals and every evening, the Witchers would retire early to be well-rested for the hard work on the next day.

They used the calm winter days for the portcullis and the fortifications and the times of the harsh blizzards for reconstructing furniture and the inner walls of the keep.

Eskel, calm and reliable person that he was, soon became the leader of the builder’s group outdoors. His unusual strong capability of using the Signs made it easy for him to move heavy objects with just the right amount of Aard or melt through the snow with blasts of Igni. The Witchers made good use of his magical gifts, but it exhausted Eskel beyond compare.

Geralt saw it with growing uneasiness. He and his brother shared a room with young Lambert, who had proved to be the right person to deal with the rebuilding of the laboratory and always smelled of Serrikanian Powder and dried herbs. Every evening, Eskel would collapse onto his mattress and pass out within seconds, often forgetting to eat or drink.

In the morning, Eskel was the first person to be up and out of the room, preparing the tasks for the day. Geralt began to miss the friendly and easy banter between them, as they only talked to each other during work. After Yule, he decided that he had enough of seeing Eskel becoming slimmer and paler every day.

One afternoon, after getting Vesemir’s permission, he dragged his brother from the courtyard and directly to the hot springs in the basement of the keep. Of course, Eskel protested.

“There is so much to do, Geralt”, he murmured but jumped willingly over the gap between two steps of the damaged staircase. “Another other time would be better.”

“I decide the time is now”, Geralt gave back smugly and adjusted the weight of the bag he carried over his shoulder. “Because you look like something that lives in the sewers of Oxenfurt.”

“Sorry to insult your refined senses.” The corners of Eskel’s tired eyes crinkled and Geralt admired the view in the shine of the lantern he had brought to light up the steamy caverns the keep had been erected over more than three hundred years ago.

Moist warmth surrounded them as they undressed quietly and stored their clothing and the bag on a wooden shelf. The steaming pool was fed by a small stream that constantly burbled out of a cleft between the rocks. Water flowed over the edges of the natural basin and disappeared in the small cracks in the floor.

Geralt was the first to climb into the welcoming heat, taking a bar of goat milk’s soap from the bag with him. He groaned in delight and then watched Eskel, who had finally given in to his sad destiny of being forced not to work. Eskel sank into the water with an almost comical expression of relief and Geralt’s brows furrowed as he noticed he could count every rib under his brother’s bronze skin.

“Why are you doing this to yourself? You're too thin”, Geralt asked without thinking. As soon as the intrusive question had left his mouth, he bit his tongue. True, they had been best friends for all of their lives, but they had never commented on one another's body. Soft teasing about scars, yes. But Geralt had never dared to put his perception of Eskel's burly form into words.

Eskel's eyes opened to half-mast and shrugged.

“I forgot to eat from time to time. It will pass”, he answered thoughtfully. After a second, he added: “I work so hard because I want to make amends.”

“Why? Do you feel guilty?”, Geralt asked and dipped his head back, soaking his hair in the water. “All of us were on the Path when it happened.”

His brother made an indistinctive hum. A crooked smile lit his face again. The golden light of the lantern accentuated the dark shadows under his eyes and his hollowed, bearded cheeks.

“Can't explain it. But I appreciate that you care”, Eskel mumbled, his voice soft and low. Their eyes met for a moment. “Even though I got used to the crazy old hermit look.”

Geralt quirked a brow at that and passed over the soap. While Eskel washed his black mane and fuzzy beard, they bickered over hairstyles and ridiculous fashion, but then their exhaustion took over and they fell silent. For a long time, the gurgling of water was the loudest sound that filled the damp air.

A change in Eskel's breathing rhythm gave away that he was close to falling asleep. Geralt gulped down a lump in his throat and hovered closer. The tranquillity on Eskel's face was a sight that never failed to amaze him.

“Esk, don't doze off. Don't want to carry you back to our room.”

Amber eyes opened lazily. Eskel stretched and water droplets ran over his toned shoulders. Geralt suddenly found it hard to breathe.

“We should give it a try. The others need a good laugh."

“You wish”, Geralt snorted and climbed out of the basin, already missing the soothing feeling of the water on his skin. He pulled the towels from the bag he had brought and when he saw Eskel followed him reluctantly, he threw one of them over, catching Eskel right in the face.

“Poor reflexes”, Geralt chided his brother. After toweling off quickly, he wrapped the fabric around his hips and took out a leather satchel, a vial of oil, and a tiny mirror from the bag. “Wanna shave?”

“With my poor reflexes?”, Eskel rolled his eyes good-naturedly. He rubbed the water from his skin with a coarseness that made Geralt cringe. He hated to see how bad his brother treated himself. “Better to be a hermit than sliced meat.”

“I can do it for you.”

Eskel made a small, confused sound deep in his throat and blinked twice. Geralt expected his offer to be rejected, but his brother just said:

"Alright. "Eskel sat down on one of the benches that lined the walls, his shoulders relaxed. His wet towel pooled in his lap. “I trust you.”

Geralt's heart fluttered in his chest and he scolded himself for being this forward. The realization that Eskel's presence did something to him wasn't new. Being with the man he considered to be his brother had always filled him with silent joy.

But now, there was a strange emotional and physical undercurrent that surprised and scared him in equal amounts. It had started when they had shared body heat after his return to the keep. Geralt had dismissed it as a one-of-a-kind reaction to his near-death experience, but the feeling just didn't fade as it should.

He had always thought that he only desired women. In his youth, being trapped with mostly men and only a few female mages, he had been so keen to finally leave for the Path and bed a member of the opposite sex. Now, his perspective changed and he wasn't sure if he was ready for it.

Silently, he sat down next to his brother and opened the satchel with his blade and a scissor. It took a while to cut Eskel's beard to a length where shaving made sense.

“Ah, there's a man under the wool”, he joked awkwardly to get rid of the tension he felt. Eskel shot him a scolding glance, but his eyes were warm.

“Don't make me laugh with a knife next to my arteries.” Eskel pretended to be afraid, but his whole body language told a different story. He hadn't flinched once during the whole process.

“You know I would never hurt you. - Training accidents don't count.” Geralt's grumbled and opened the vial to cover his hands with a generous amount of oil. Touching Eskel's face was the weirdest thing he had done in a while. Everything about it felt warm and smooth, even the uneven stubble that had once been a beard.

The curved razor knife felt surprisingly cool in Geralt's hands as he drew in a deep breath. Tenderly, he cupped Eskel's cheek, pulled on the skin to stretch it, and placed the blade on his brother's skin. Despite his fears, his movements were light-handed and secure as he moved the knife with the grain.

Eskel seemed to be perfectly at ease, eyes closed, hands on his thighs. Geralt finally allowed himself the guilty pleasure of enjoying what he was doing. The tips of his fingers slid from Eskel's cheeks to the throat, over the adam's apple and the square chin, prepared the way for the precise strokes of the knife. It was over way to soo.

He leaned in closer to see if he caught all of the hair. So close that their breaths mixed and he could smell the soap on Eskel's skin. Geralt gave in to the impulse to lean forward. His lips brushed over Eskel’s mouth, just for a tiny moment, and a wave of arousal gushed through his abdomen.

He dared to look at Eskel and found his brother frozen, eyes wide open now. Geralt immediately regretted what he had done and leaned back abruptly.

“Esk, I am sorry.” He cleared his throat and cursed his disability to blush. His cheeks felt unnaturally hot, though. “I shouldn’t have -.”

“Geralt. It’s alright. Relax.” Eskel’s voice was kind but firm. It stopped Geralt from following the urge to rush out of the cave. He felt embarrassed and out of breath. The realization that Eskel didn’t despise him for the kiss made him feel a bit better. But it didn't help him to get over his confusion. Just the opposite. “I just need to know – what you were searching for? Comfort?”

Geralt’s mind went blank. He was too torn between the possible answers he could give, too aroused to find the sincere words Eskel needed to hear.

“I – just don’t want to ruin this. I mean, us. Our friendship”, Geralt mumbled instead. All his helplessness bled into the lame excuse for his lack of certainty. He was unbelievably relieved that Eskel didn’t push him away, but watched him with a soft expression.

“No harm is done”, Eskel murmured and shot him a pensive smile. “But if you have the answer, let me know, will you?”

Then, Eskel leaned forward and placed a very tender kiss on Geralt’s sweaty forehead. I eased Geralt's mind, but he only realized that he had received an open invitation after they had dressed and left the cavern together.


End file.
